


120 - Tour Manager Reader Gets Boyf; Van Don't Like Dat

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “One where ur like their tour manager and Van is smitten w you but you get a bf, and he looks for any excuse to fight w him or pick on him?? And maybe reader cheats on him when shes drunk one night and regrets it in the am (you dont have to do the last part if ya dont want)” and “one where the reader is dating another guy and Van is her best friend and he’s jealous!!!?”





	120 - Tour Manager Reader Gets Boyf; Van Don't Like Dat

You'd managed most of Catfish's tours over the last two years. After the first one, after meeting Van, it was a given at the label and through management that you'd be there. Van said he'd not felt more comfortable around someone since he first started hanging with Larry as a kid. You were best friends, and when the tour was over you still spent a lot of time together. When he went to the U.S. to record The Ride you felt completely alone, and there was an emptiness in your life. Your friends laughed and said that you deserved it for abandoning them all for him, but they forgave you and you began to socialise again.

You'd started to date Jackson about a month before the touring kicked off again. Back on the bus and around the boys, you felt like you'd come home. Telling them, telling Van, about Jackson didn't seem important at first. It's not like they ever hit on you; most of them had girlfriends, and they were all too respectful for that. Sometimes, when you'd pass out on Van's hotel bed and felt his arm curl around you, you wondered if the line had been crossed. Your line was probably marked in a different place to other people's though. Van was your best friend, and you'd cuddle up with Bec or Tegan, so what was the difference with doing it with Van? You called Jackson every day, and he seemed okay with you being confined to small spaces with a bunch of boys. It was all okay.

'Okay' is already a vague and subjective word. Okay can mean good, coping, fine. Okay can be passive aggressive and not at all fine. When Jackson came for his first visit, what you thought you meant when you said it was all okay didn’t apply anymore.

You overheard Van talking to Larry out in the back alley behind the venue. "Hate him," he snapped about Jackson.

"Mate. You don't even know him. Give him a chance, yeah?" Larry replied.

"Don't need to. He's not good enough for her. Fuckin' wanker."

Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do, but you pretended you hadn't heard. Really, as Jackson's girlfriend, you owed it to him to defend him. As Van's best friend, you owed it to him to stand up to him when he was out of line.

Jackson only stayed a few days and saw one Catfish show. He loved the band and was gushing with compliments when they came off stage. Van dodged his handshake and forced a smile out. He disappeared quickly into the back room of the tour bus. He didn't even come out to meet fans. All night you threw worried glances to Larry, who shrugged and pretended he didn't know what was happening.

It took a few days after Jackson left for Van to warm up to you again. But when he finally did, it was worse than before. You'd established that Van probably had a bit of a crush on you. He was a little smitten, and it was cute but harmless. Well, you weren't harmed. If anything, it was nice to have someone pay so much attention to you. The winks when he was on stage. The little looks at you from across the room in interviews. The sharing of clothes; sleeping in his shirts and socks on the bus. The so-called-unplanned passing out on each other's hotel beds.

There was a night where you drank too much and knocked on Van's hotel door. He pulled you in by the waist and you danced across the room together. When the song hushed in the bridge, you let Van rest his head on your shoulder. His lips brushed against your neck, and when you didn't push him away like you usually did when he got too close, he kissed you. It was light and gentle and made you shiver. The second kiss was harder and on your jaw, then another perilously close to your lips. You pushed him off you quickly and stepped backwards, covering your mouth with your hands. "I've… I've got to go," you said, and ran from the room. You called Jackson as soon as you were in your own hired bed. You cried and didn't tell him what had happened. He thought you were just tired and homesick for him.

A week later, a week after avoiding Van, Jackson arrived unannounced. One of the venue's staff found you backstage, saying there was a guy out front. You jumped into his arms, happy for the distraction. He watched Catfish from side of stage with you, and you could have sworn Van was being more reckless on stage, hanging from the overhead plumbing, and literally climbing the walls.

On the bus after, you sat on Jackson's lap as he played a made up cards game with Bondy and Benji. They taught it to him and were pleased that he picked it up so quickly. You grinned at Bob as he took a photo of the scene. They all had the next day off, so they were drinking. Van, in particular, was drinking a lot. He'd finished four beers in an hour and stumbled out to where you were all sitting. He sat down and watched quietly for a while, but you could feel the storm brewing. The bus was in motion, on its way to the next city. Nobody could escape.

"You want in?" Jackson asked Van happily. Van stared at him, unblinking and unresponsive. "You alright mate?"

"Yeah… mate. Just fine," Van replied slowly, emphasising 'mate' like it was a foreign word to him. Jackson looked at you. You'd moved to sit next to him. You winked, trying to reassure him. Half an hour passed, and Jackson won the game. He laughed and said the others probably let him win. Van mumbled nasty agreement under his breath, but only you heard. You shot him a look.

"Can we play something I know how to play?" you asked, sitting up.

"Yeah. Wouldn't want Y/N to feel all left out and lonely," Van said and it was the most mean you'd ever heard him. It didn't suit him at all. "You know truth or dare, yeah?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, mate," Bondy said.

"Sure it is. Don't be fuckin' chicken," Van snapped.

"I'll go first!" Benji quickly said. "I dare Bondy to… flash your ass at the next car that drives by."

It was an act Bondy probably would have done sober without prompting, but for a drunken dare, he was extra dramatic. It was a disgustingly beautiful thing to watch. You were in hysterics by the time he sat down.

"Alright, my turn then," Bondy said. "Van. Mate. I dare you to drink some fucking water,"

"What?" Van replied, straight-faced and unimpressed. Bondy threw over a half-finished bottle of water. Van downed it, then grinned. Bondy meant to make the situation better, sober Van up a bit, but really he'd just placed the ball in Van's court.

"Jackson," Van said.

"Van. Don't be a dick," you warned.

"Nah, it's alright honey," Jackson said, so trusting and unaware. "Go for it, Van. Do your worst."

Van smirked and looked at you as he spoke. "Jackson. I dare you to ask Y/N how she feels about me,"

"Y/N, how do you feel about Van?" Jackson immediately asked. If he was concerned or threatened, his voice didn't let on.

"I feel pissed off," you answered honestly, staring back at Van. His choice of words had given you a free pass.

"My turn. Van. How do you feel about Y/N?" Jackson asked.

There was an audible intake of breath from both Benji and Bondy, who were nervously watching the scene play out. Van looked shocked that he'd been asked the question, and you could see him decide on what to say. His head tilted to the side and he was about to speak when Larry walked into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Playing truth or dare. Bondy flashed a car. Van drank some water and has decided to start some shit with Jackson. Very awkward. You should probably take this one away," Benji said quickly.

"Van?" Larry said.

"I feel…" Van started, determined to finish his truth. Larry put a hand on his shoulder but Van pushed it off. "I feel like she should be with me and not you. You're boring, mate, dull as fuckin' dishwater. She deserves someone better,"

"And that's you?" Jackson said, unshaken. Van nodded and took another sip of beer. "Van. You're too fuckin' dumb for Y/N. How could you even hold a conversation with her? How are you going to give her all the things she wants, like a family? Going to take kids on tour? You're a fucking child, and you can have your little crush on her. Not bothered at all, mate."

You knew what Van would say before it even popped into his mind. When it did though, you saw it on his face. He grinned wide, then looked at you. His smile was unkind and unnerving. "She let me kiss her."

The room went quiet. You weren't sure if you should try to explain it wasn't a proper kiss, but that seemed like an admission of guilt. Your skin was hot, and your pulse was racing. Any love you had for Van was completely gone in that moment. Larry was the first to speak.

"Van. Let's go have a smoke, yeah?"

Van looked up at his only remaining friend and nodded. He stood and walked out of the space. You wondered if everyone else on the bus had heard too. Bondy and Benji stood and left too, saying sorry and goodnight. You were left alone in the small makeshift kitchen/dining/living room. The movement of the bus was making you feel sick.

"That's not-"

"Don't," Jackson said. "Fuck, Y/N. Should I have trusted you at all?"

"It wasn't like how it sounds," you went to defend yourself despite being in the wrong.

"Right. Is there any version that doesn't fuckin' end with you being too close to him? You know how he feels. Everyone does. And I trusted you when you said he was just a mate. But it's not that is it?"

Jackson was hurt, but that was fair. You couldn't argue because he was right and you both knew it. He stood up and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna go sit up from with the driver. I'll jump off at the next town,"

"We're in the middle of nowhere. You can't just leave,"

"Y/N. The middle of fucking nowhere is a lot better than here with him. Or you,"

"I'm… I'm sorry?" It didn't mean to sound like a question. He shook his head and walked down the aisle and disappeared behind the driver's door. You sat back down and cried for almost forty minutes straight. You knew he was serious when the bus changed routes in the next town and stopped out the front of a Greyhound station. You watched Jackson step off the tour bus and walk inside the building. It was late, and he'd probably sleep there before making his way back to the capital. Logically, or maybe dramatically, the thing to do would be to get off and follow him. Beg for him back. But, as your feet rubbed together in Van's socks under the table, you knew that would be the most fucked up thing to do. You stood, and made your way to an empty bunk and passed out.

…

The bus hit a pothole and it jolted you awake. You turned over, unrested and unhappy. Van was standing next to your bunk.

"Are you watching me sleep?" you asked before you remembered how angry you were.

"No. I just got here,"

"Right. Well, you can fuck off again," you said, catching up with your emotions.

"Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry, I-"

"No. Nope. Fuck off, Van, seriously."

You turned back over and waited for him to leave.

When you had to speak to him to give him updates about tour plans, you spoke quickly and avoided eye contact. You could see he was dying, but he deserved it. It wasn't until Larry came and spoke to you in your hotel room a week and a bit later that you began to soften.

"He's proper sorry," he told you.

"Why should I care, Larry. He was a total fucking cunt,"

"Yeah. Yes. But, you can't pretend you didn't have any part in this… You did let him kiss you."

Larry was right. In the midst of the guilt about how Jackson was treated, you forgot you were part of the team that treated him so badly. You waited until after the show to go and speak to Van. You knocked on his hotel door. He opened it, but the room behind him was dark. He put his finger to his lips, indicated Larry was already asleep. Van stepped out into the hallway.

"Can we talk?" you asked. He nodded and sat on the floor, back against the wall. You sat next to him, letting your side touch his.

"Can I go first?" he asked, to which you nodded. "I'm sorry. I am so, so fucking sorry. I don't want to be that guy. You know? I don't want to hit on girls with boyfriends, and I don't want to be so God awful to people. I was raised to be better than that, and I’m sorry. Can you tell Jackson that I'm sorry, too? He's been nothing but dead nice to me and the band and I shouldn't have been like that to him,"

"Uh, if he ever talks to me again, I'll tell him. Don't think he wants to hear from either of us, though…" you said. Van nodded. "I'm sorry, too. I should have made it clear where the line was. Should've stopped you sooner. It's not all your fault, Van. You were just kind of following my lead, I guess,"

"Nah. Not gonna take that. I fucked up. You can say it," he said, looking over at you. You could see it in his face that he was hurt at how badly he'd acted. He hated himself a little bit for it.

"Alright. Well… Can we just move on?" you asked.

"Yeah. Yes. Definitely… Where… Where does that leave us?"

"I don't know. Clean start?"

Van nodded and he held his hand out like he wanted to shake, which he did. "Hi. I'm Van. I'm in the band. I promise not to be a dick," he said with a grin.

"Hi, Van. I’m Y/N. I'm your tour manager. I promise to only let you kiss me when it's proper okay to do so," you replied. He kept your hand in his.

"So… there's going to be kissing?"


End file.
